Personal Experience
by Cumberbatch Critter
Summary: Otherwise known as: Watson talks about Holmes's "experience", even in the mind palace. (Does this topic never cease?) [TAB spoilers. Rated T for the guy talk.]


**Personal Experience**

"You don't have a girlfriend, then?"

Sherlock kept his eyes glued to the window, awaiting the murderer to appear outside of Angelo's. They would; he was certain. "Girlfriend... No, not really my area."

"Oh, right then."

Sherlock flicked his gaze over the passerby. That wasn't him, that wasn't him, no one fit the _profile_...

"... Do you have a boyfriend?"

 _Boyfriend?_ Sherlock turned away from the window, locking eyes onto John. For God's sake, what was he even talking about? What kind of conversation was he dragging him into?

"Which is fine, by the way," John added quickly.

"I know it's fine," Sherlock replied crisply. Of course it was fine; he was fine. This was the 21st century. Everything was fine.

Right.

John looked at him without emotion. He wasn't judging, just genuinely curious. Strange; was this the kind of conversation Sherlock would be subjected to each day? Good thing he was sufficient at filtering.

"So, you've got a boyfriend?"

Was this still going? "No."

"Right. Okay."

Couldn't they bypass this conversation about sexuality? Where was their _suspect_?

"You're unattached, like me." _What?_ "Fine." _What are you saying?_ "Good." _Is this flirting?_

Sherlock stared at the window again, and then breathing in a short inhale, he cleared his throat. "John, um." This was unlike any flirting he had ever been witnessed to. Usually he could just bluntly tell them _no_ , but John hadn't exactly phrased it as a question. Clever. Now Sherlock had to figure out a way to respond. "I think you should know that I consider myself married to my work, and while I'm flattered by your interest, I'm really not... looking for..."

John cut him off, seeming somewhere near apoplexy. "No, no, that's not what I... _no_."

Oh, had Sherlock interpreted wrong? He could have sworn John was flirting with him... oh, hell, who _cared_? So long as they were on the same page, Sherlock didn't have time for romance when he had a murderer to find!

* * *

 _Frustrating_.

Sherlock didn't mind the frustrating cases, he thought, thunking the book back into the crate, but they were annoying even to him if there was no payout for it. He sank his fingers into his hair and looked up as John walked in the door. "We're going out. I need some air," he announced.

John was looking a little slap happy for whatever, a contrast to what Sherlock was feeling, so it was annoying, even more annoying when John said "Actually, I've got a date".

Oh, no, not this again.

"What?"

Sherlock swore the only thing on his new flatmate's mind was that regarding the opposite sex. Or sex in general, apparently, recognising the fact John felt the need to use the shower as his personal masturbation grounds.

They were supposed to be solving a _case_ , not panting after a sexual exploit or... _girlfriend_ , if that was what John was aiming for.

"It's where two people who like each other go and have fun?" John said, in the tone of a question, as though he were really saying _don't you know what a date is?_

He frowned; of course he did. _Didn't he?_ "That's what _I_ was suggesting."

"No, it wasn't," John said patiently. "At least, I hope it wasn't."

Eyebrows furrowed, Sherlock crossed the room. Hadn't that been what he'd been suggesting? Without the connotation, of course, but he did know what a date consisted of; he just didn't feel the urge to fall victim to such whim of fancy unless for a case.

It was such a pointless waste of time, all regarding sexual relationships. He didn't know why John dwelled on it so much.

* * *

"Is that a British Army Browning L9A1 in your pocket, or are you just pleased to see me?"

Sex jokes now? Wasn't it slightly inopportune? John seemed unamused, and Sherlock removed the gun from his pocket to point towards Moriarty.

"Both."

* * *

"Don't be alarmed. It's to do with sex."

Sherlock looked up. "Sex doesn't alarm me."

Mycroft smirked. "How would you know?"

Sherlock felt the cold trickle through his veins at Mycroft's smile and tone; there was no comeback to that. He inhaled sharply and turned back to the investigation. Sex or not - did the world revolve on this? Sherlock knew the answer - there would always be murder to look forward to, at least.

* * *

"... Yes, you have."

That was not an acceptable answer to the picture that Sherlock had just painted. He frowned and turned back to John; wasn't his friend concerned about Magnussen? This was perhaps the biggest case since Moriarty- no. This _was_ the biggest case since Moriarty, equally as dangerous and potentially more deadly.

"I'm sorry, what?" he asked, as though he was the one who was meant to be apologising. He was staying on topic; clearly, John was not.

"You have a girlfriend."

 _Oh, for God's sake!_

"What?" _We've got a shark on the line here, John!_ "Yes! Yes, I'm going out with Janine. I thought that was _fairly_ obvious."

"Yes. Well... yes." John said. "But I mean, you, you..."

Sherlock groaned internally. Couldn't he rip the plaster off without the fanfare? Besides, the longer he talked about this, the more he had to keep this ridiculous charade going.

"You're in a relationship?"

Sherlock forced asides his irritation. Always with everything revolving around being involved with someone! And John was the worst of them! He was married now; he still had to focus on this? It _wasn't_ that big of a deal! And yet, he had to play the part. He put on the perfect, slightly hesitant smile, and said "Yes, I am".

"You and Janine."

"Mm. Yes. Me and Janine."

"Care to elaborate?"

No, he did not. He never cared to elaborate, explain, entertain, or divulge any of his sexual experience - or lack thereof.

But he had a part to play, so he kept that effortless mask firmly on.

* * *

He sat, knelt on his knees in the humid greenhouse, as he waited for the bride to show up. Certain as though he was that she would - whatever _she_ was - waiting was not one of his favourite pasttimes.

Watson was sat across him, looking around and out the glass panes and fidgeting in the way that he did when they often had long times to wait on cases.

And like Watson was so inclined to do as they sat in silence, he was going to need to talk.

 _(what would John talk about? what_ did _John talk about? food. Mary. money. sex. the baby.)_

Holmes sat motionless, but Watson turned to look at him.

 _(but what would he talk about during a case? where Sherlock couldn't escape?)_

Watson open his mouth.

 _(sex, clearly. he never shut up about it. bugging Sherlock consistently about his_ own _sex life-)_

"You are a living, breathing man. You've lived a life. You have a past," Watson began.

Holmes opened his eyes. "A what?"

"Well, you must have had... experiences."

The intonation and Watson's awkward pause and shift. Experiences was _experiences_ , of the sexual nature _(and here they were again)_. "Pass me your revolver, I have a sudden need to use it."

"Damn it, Holmes, you are flesh and blood!" Watson retorted. "You have feelings, and you have... you _must_ have... impulses."

 _(did this conversation never cease?)_ Didn't Watson often chastise him for approaching topics of sensitive nature? Did this not count towards it? Holmes closed his eyes again, and breathed in shallowly. _(drop it.)_ "Dear Lord, I have never been so impatient to be attacked by a murderous ghost," he muttered.

Now wasn't the time.

 _(neither was now)_

Couldn't they talk about the work instead? He was much more comfortable with that.

Luck was with him, so it would seem; he was dragged deeper still into the mirage playing out before him and he and Watson went running to meet this ghastly haunt straight on.

These were the experiences he preferred.

* * *

 **A/N: In other words, holy _crap_ , John, Sherlock's ace, _stop_ asking! (xD Personal headcanon) I don't even know exactly what the point of this piece was; the fact that Sherlock's subconscious created a conversation where Watson asks him about his sex life is hilarious (and his persistence to dismiss the conversation furthers my ace headcanon, yush) [although I desperately wanted Sherlock to bring up Victor Trevor as a past exploit... a time where his relationship status changed before he could realise _why_ he didn't necessarily enjoy the physical part of it and I am getting in way too deep with headcanons here xD]**

 **I do not own _Sherlock_. Thanks for reading!**


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